


Oldest story in the world

by vermicious_knid



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Gen, I promised I wouldn't, but dammmit mama I'm in love with a meaty sheriff, but deep down hes a superior, cheesy 80s romance, pent up emotions and a gruff exterior, salt those buns and put gravvy on my, you know what - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 12:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20275960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vermicious_knid/pseuds/vermicious_knid
Summary: She always appeared when he really didn’t need it.Like in the parking lot at the mall. At the grocery store in the evenings. Waiting in line at the cinema on saturdays.And she always, always approached him – no matter how intensely he glowered or attempted to ignore her.





	Oldest story in the world

He hadn’t really noticed her presence at the office until a week after she started.

It wasn’t because he was usually out (he was) or that he showed up hung-over sometimes (something he often did) no, it had nothing to do with him.

It was because she was so goddamn small – Hopper suddenly realized that the kid he thought he had seen coming in dressed up as a cop actually was one.

And _not_ a kid, a woman.

She greeted him on her seventh day like they already knew each other – which made him glower. He didn’t like that one bit. Matter of fact, he didn’t like most things early in the morning. She had long ginger hair that had been put up in a neat ponytail, large observant hazel eyes set in a heartshaped face.

She was far too perky too. Happy like only puppies and infants are allowed to be. It gnawed on his patience already.

”Good morning boss! I brewed some fresh coffee – just the way I heard you like it.” She announced in a loud voice that he wanted to shut his ears to. He loomed down at her in silence for a beat, the frown on his face deepening by the second.

”And who are you supposed to be?” he muttered, doughnut still in his mouth.

She answered without missing a beat.

”Mary Godfried Clapton reporting for duty sir! My superior sent me here from Louisville to help out.”And christ, she even saluted him like a boy scout. It made Hopper almost spit out his precious bite of doughnut in early morning disgust.

”Flo!” He yelled out. Flo barely lifted her gaze from her paperwork in response.

”Yeah?”

”How come this is the first time I hear about this?”

”I gave you the brief last week, remember? I told you that it was very important?” she asked, eyeing him over the rim of her glasses meaningfully, judging without words. He did an aborted attempt at rolling his eyes, and instead groaned and headed towards his office again with the shiny new officer in tow that he hadn’t asked for.

He started looking for said briefing on his desk, which was already littered with unfiled papers and old paper cups. Meanwhile, Mary stood and watched him rummage around with a big smile on her face that made Hopper look faster for that brief.

”I look forward to working with you sir!” she suddenly said, making him squeeze his eyes shut and cover his ears. It was way too fucking early for this.

”Yeah, sure. Now go show your face to some other people that need it. Those poor people.”

* * *

She always appeared when he really didn’t need it.

Like in the parking lot at the mall. At the grocery store in the evenings. Waiting in line at the cinema on saturdays.

And she always, always approached him – no matter how intensely he glowered or attempted to ignore her.

”Hey Mr. Hopper! Mr. Hopper!”

And there it was again. This time, on halloween. It was the first time El really got to celebrate it like her friends. She was dressed as a member of KISS – not as Gene Simmons though, thank god.

And he was tagging along. Sort of – at a distance. In his car. Just keeping an eye on things. He was keeping a low-profile. Brooding in silence. It worked for him.

But somehow, Mary had spotted him anyway.

She came over and leaned against his car like that was something she was generally allowed to do, which she wasn’t.

  
”What are you doing here?” she asked from behind her mask.

”I should be asking you that question.” He said, staring at her. She was in a gremlins costume, but she more resembled a demonic santa elf than anything else. She lifted the mask and gave him a smile that was just a shade too enthusiastic for his liking.

”What everyone else is doing, dummy.”

And what could he possibly say to that? So he said nothing and continued to keep an eye on ”the losers” who were currently posing for a photo outside of Mr. Gumbys house – which was always the most decorated one in the neighborhood.

So he didn’t notice when someone threw a snickers bar in his lap.

But he did notice a gremlin speeding off on foot down the road, laughing maniacally.

* * *

”You can’t just sic her on people – she’s not a dog.” Flo would mutter from her desk.

”Not one that you can teach how to fetch anyway...” he muttered from underneath his hat, leaned back in his chair for a nap.

”Hopper!” Flo hissed, outraged. 

His only response was to crack a smile that was just a tad evil. 

Sometimes he sent Mary to take statements from eye-witnesses. There had been a lot of sightings in town recently, and a few suspicious patrons at the diner. He sent her partly to get rid of her at the office, but also because she was very good at it (as loathe he was to admit).

People in Hawkins didn’t like being questioned, and they certainly did not like giving lengthy statements.

But once she showed up, there was no possible escape. She was simply too aggravating to ignore. 

* * *

Pipsqueak, midget, pebbles, niblet, shorty.

He started calling her by all these nicknames as a way of coping with her exuberant presence.

But for some ludicrous reason, it brought an unwanted spring to her step.

* * *

Okay, so he had to admit – she ran faster than any other police officer he had ever seen. Female or otherwise.

He had been at the office, looking over some of the old files from the laboratory that he had salvaged – hoping that it might shed some light on what was currently happening in Hawkins. People were disappearing again, it seemed.

The pipsqueak just so happend to be there as well – keeping an eye on him from a distance. She had insisted to stay a few extra hours, in case there happened to be an emergency.

And suddenly, just like that, there was.

There was a series of white flashes coming from outside, and at first he thought it was lightning – but instinct dismissed it, and when he looked outside, he saw a figure angling a little too close, standing a little too still.

He had stood up abruptly from his chair, watched the figure move for a second before he walked briskly into the other room, seeing the figure now moving faster in the dark.

”Something wrong?” The pipsqueak asked, and he didn’t answer her until he was sure that the figure posed no immediate threat, watching him through the window with a hard glare.

”We’re being watched.” he announced, at which point he was surprised that she continued being so quiet. She was usually so loud. All he heard was the rustle of a chair, the door opening and closing with a bang, and then he was watching her through the window – ginger hair flying madly behind her as she took off into a sprint after the figure that he now could see was carrying a camera.

He blinked once, twice. And then he cursed under his breath before he also ran out the door.

The figure turned out to be a russian scientist – they couldn’t get a clear word out of him that either of them understood, but he knew someone that could help with that.

At the end of the evening, he brought the scientist with him in his truck, and watched and waited from a distance as the pipsqueak locked the office for the night, stopping to wave at him cheerfully before heading home herself.

_Why did he do that?_ Even the strange russian scientist he had cuffed in the backseat was looking at him oddly.

* * *

Something else he couldn’t (refused) to understand was her lack of respect for authority. On paper, that was exactly what it was, but in reality -

For example, if he told her, plain and simple – DO NOT investigate or visit the hawkins labratory without supervision, she would go and do just that. Or he would tell her, very politely – _do not act on what you just heard in my office, the kids in this town don’t need another enabler._

And when he caught her in the act of doing what he told her not to do, she would react like she had completely forgot about it and was 100 % innocent. She just started rambling on him, giving him milelong excuses - just like the damn kids. 

And yes, happy to see him, as always.

Like when he found her and two teenage boys in the woods, all of them covered in mud, one holding a rifle and the other a baseball bat covered in sharp nails. Mary holding a bag that shuffled and emitted strange noises that he’d rather not think about.

* * *

He usually went to the bar alone. Hell, he’d been drinking alone for years anyway so why quit a nice habit?

It had been unusually empty for a saturday night, not even any local teens trying to get a drink with their fake ID’s. It was raining heavily outside, and had been for most of the day.

People said he was a brooder, and maybe that was true. There was a lot to think about, to remember without wanting to.

He had finished his second beer, the occasional flash from lightening making him look outside.

At first he didn’t realize who it was. The woman on rollerskates, making her way down the street like she owned it, as if the rain and the thunder didn’t bother her at all.

Her red hair was loose, and would have been flying in the air behind her if it wasn’t soaking wet, plastered to her head. There was a small walkman at her hip, headphones hanging around her neck.

She was wearing a blue t-shirt and green runner shorts, leaving long legs exposed.

He could tell, even from the distance, that she was mouthing the words to a song he couldn’t hear.

She was swaying to and fro, zigzagging down the street – occasionally stopping altogether to mime words of the song, making gestures with her hands as if she was holding a microphone.

And she was smiling.

Even though it was dark outside, it was still summer – the darkness more like a dark blue hue that covered everything in a thin sheet. The blue caught on her skin, but instead of making her look sad and grim, it made her look otherworldly.

Jim suddenly felt drops of water on his head, and looked up-

He was now, somehow, standing outside the entrance, holding the door open – watching her turn the corner and disappear out of sight.

* * *

It was just a drunk night. Drunken behavior. That stuff happens – it happens all the time, actually.

But he can’t quite explain why he’s more gruff than usual come monday, or why he stops calling her by the nicknames.


End file.
